Dulles or Bust
by darlasmom
Summary: One shot - Brennan's on a plane, headed off on a vacation, and Booth is looking for the nearest bar. But, appearances can be deceiving...Rated M for language and suggestive passages.


**Thanks for all the great reviews you guys have been sending - aw, you're makin' me blush! You've all been wonderful, thanks for all your support!**

**This is just a one shot, a little humor - I tend to get a little angsty, so it's nice to lighten up once in a while! Enjoy - and don't forget to review, I love 'em!**

**DULLES OR BUST  
**

She's on vacation with him. I can't **stand** it. I watched them walk away in the concourse, and it felt like my heart was being dragged behind them, bumping painfully along in their wake. What masochistic tendency drove me to offer them a ride to the airport? The same one that made me insist on helping them into the terminal with their bags, I suppose. I guess it's like a sore tooth - you can't stop testing it. I planted my ass on this airport barstool before they were even out of sight. I plan to get drunk. Stinking, reeling drunk. Maybe then I can forget. Forget my anger with her for not seeing -** again** - what was right in front of her face. Forget the rage that made me want to deck the lucky asshole standing next to her - if I started hitting him I might not be able to stop, and it's really not his fault. Who wouldn't be with her if they had the chance? No, it's not his fault. It's **my** fault. I know that sometimes I need to spell things out for her - hell, most of the time I do, and she still doesn't get it. But every time I start to tell her how I really feel, my throat snaps shut and I make any excuse just to get the hell away, afraid of looking like a fish. A fish just pulled out of the tank.

The first indication that being near Bones was going to be a problem popped up during our very first case. Popped up, hah…very appropriate choice of words, actually. I was arguing with her at the firing range, and I was pretty steamed, so I decided to see if she could take the heat. So I pushed, a little. Well, more than just a little. And I found out pretty quickly that** I** was the one who couldn't take the heat. I was in her face, almost pressed against her - close enough to feel the warmth from her body, even though we weren't touching. She didn't back down, not an inch - to tell the truth, I was shocked. I'd never seen a woman so sure of herself, so strong. She just stood there, smiling brazenly up at me. Suddenly, all I wanted was to close that gap, take one more step - hell, a lean forward would have done it. I wanted her more than I wanted my next breath, more than I wanted to win that goddamned argument. I just wanted her. I could have had my lips on hers in a fraction of a second, and nothing would have stopped me. Well – now that I know her better, I realize that **she** would have stopped me. I'd probably have been on the floor, gasping for air. But it would have been worth it for a taste of those lips. It's only late at night, when I'm in bed, that the little voice in my head asks me what I would have done if I'd kissed her and she'd let me…I hate that little fucking voice. Because I know if that had happened, I might not have stopped at all. So, I guess it was for the best. At least it was the best for my sanity. And it was probably a good thing she was looking up instead of down, because she would've gotten an eyeful.

So, this partnership with Bones began – and continues - with a raging, full-blown case of lust. But aside from torturing myself when I can't sleep, I mostly have my reactions under control now. Mostly. I'm not some sixteen year-old walking case of glands, I'm a full-grown man, and I can handle the pressure. And oh, there is some serious pressure. We spend most of our time with each other, day and night, and a weaker man would have snapped a long time ago. Eating, working, driving - we always seem to wind up together. Holidays, weekends - doesn't matter. It's gotten to the point that if one of us doesn't answer our phone, whoever's calling tries the other one of us. Automatically. It's like we're joined at the hip - without actually being joined at the hip, to my great disappointment. I was actually glad, in the beginning, that she was such a smart-ass. She pissed me off regularly, and being angry is a good distraction. Usually. But some perverse side of my nature decided to get off on the way she smart-mouths me, so now even the anger doesn't help. I suppose I would've been better-off if the attraction to her had remained only physical. I mean, denying the physical is easy - well, not easy, but at least it's a battle I know. Her pale, pale skin, thick wavy auburn hair and soft rosy lips, her build - because shit, she is **built**…wait. Where was I? Damn. But I can get past that; I **have** been getting past that, for - what, three years now? Goddamn, it seems like ten years - it seems like forever. But I've been doing it.

What's much harder to handle, actually it's nearly impossible, is that I **like** her now. No - not that kind of like, although I do - but there's no sense in 'beating' **that** dead horse. I like her as a** person**. She was just a brainiac egghead squint in the beginning - we were partners, and she was my responsibility, but that was as far as it went. But now - we're friends, best friends. Man, it is so weird to say that - I've never really had a female friend before. Acquaintances, co-workers, sure. But – best friend? Never. If I liked a woman that much, I sure as hell wasn't lookin' for friendship. I know that doesn't really reflect well on me, but it is what it is. I'm sure Bones would say something profound about it being ingrained in my childhood, my adult relationship parameters - or some other scientific crap like that. All I know is that we're best friends - and it makes everything so much harder. Even if I didn't want the hell out of her we'd still be friends. I know this. She's strong, loyal, smart - so smart it's scary. She's absolutely fearless, and man, fearless is what you need in a partner when you're facing down a homicidal lunatic. The road is no place for nerds. Any other squint would have been a major liability, if they'd even had the courage to try it in the first place. It wouldn't have lasted. But Bones, she's an asset - there's no one else I'd rather have watching my back.

I get a kick out of watching her kick ass. She doesn't need my help; shit, she doesn't need anyone's help. People constantly underestimate her. I did, in the beginning - but that'll never happen again. The first time, I started to step in with some noble idea of 'protecting' her. Well, to say that she managed on her own would be an understatement. I'd barely taken a step, and that sap was on the ground. Then, I began to see the humor in the whole thing. It's amazing, the surprise on the perps' faces – they reach for her, thinking they're gonna make quick work of her, and they wind up with a broken nose. Really. Funny as hell. I almost laughed out loud the second time it happened. To be fair, I **do** try to warn 'em, but they never listen. I still keep an eye on her, but she's my partner, and that's what you do for your partner.

But what really got me, what made me finally put up the white flag? For all that she's got a hard shell, boy, there sure is a gooey center underneath. She's been hurt, over and over, but it's still there, deep inside. She still cares. Most people don't see it, but I sensed that it was there, pretty early on. For all her clinical coldness, she has an insight, a compassion that comes from personal experience. She doesn't always know how to express herself, because she was withdrawn for so many years. But she still feels. More and more, she makes the kind gesture – she's not as afraid to show compassion as she used to be. To show herself. And when she does, and it works? It's so cute – she gets this little smile on her face, almost like she's patting herself on the back. I try to make sure I'm around for it whenever possible – a smiling Bones is something I try to experience at least once a day. Like a vitamin, Bones is good for my bones...damn, maybe I should knock off the beer for a while. That was really lame.

So here I sit, the guest of honor at my own personal pity party, and damn, it's a really good party – I have no idea know how I'm gonna get home. Guess I shoulda thought of that before, but I couldn't get _her_ out of my head. She's crowded in there, and I can't get her out, even the fucking **beer** isn't helping. I need whiskey. Lots of whiskey, enough that I can't think anymore. Then maybe I won't be tempted to call in another favor with Homeland Security and have the plane brought back. I might actually consider it, but the last time I used Homeland Security to corral her? Didn't go too well. God, why can't I get her out of my head? I swear I can smell her, it's all around me – I'm gonna drown myself in my beer. Actually drown myself.

"Booth."

And now I'm hearing things. Great – I try to drink myself into a stupor so I can forget about her, and I get the full Temperance Brennan multimedia experience. Jesus, I can even see her now. Actually, I can see two of her. Even better – I can barely manage to be around **one** of her, and now I'm getting her in stereo.

"Booth?"

"Aw, go the hell away, already, will ya? Just disappear – let me tell ya, I'd **much** rather see a pink elephant than you."

"I…don't know what that means."

"Oh, **Christ**. Well, let me 'splain, Lucy – **I'm not in love with the elephant** – the elephant is my friend. You, baby, are torture. So, before they arrest me for public drunkenness and talking to ghosts, just **go away**. God, can't a man have a broken heart in private?"

"I'm not a ghost, Booth – I decided not to go on vacation."

What… "What?"

"It didn't feel right – it just **wasn't** right, going with him. I'm afraid he's very angry with me. I thought I saw you come in here, before, so…"

Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit. Please let me be hallucinating. God couldn't possibly be this mean – what'd I ever do to Him? I'd get up and run, but I'm not sure I can even walk at this point. Maybe I can just hide under the table…no, if I'm that close to her knees I might start begging.

"Where are your keys?"

"What keys?" Now the Two Temperances are smiling, a double dose of embarrassment to heap on top of my three scoops of misery.

"Your car keys."

"Oh, those. You'd think I'd know where they **are**, wouldn't you? And you'd be **wrong**." It's a good thing I **don't** know where they are, since I have a strong urge to stick something sharp in my eye. Repeatedly. 'Cause I gotta tell you, this day couldn't get much worse.

"Okay, stand up, c'mon, Booth. They're probably in your pocket."

Wow. I'm actually standing…oh boy. When did the walls start to move? What the – what the hell! She's got her hands in my pockets! This is not good, **not good**, but wow, it feels really good…and now my humiliation is complete. She's staring at me, there's no way she didn't notice…ah, hell. One word, **one word** from her and I swear I'll throw myself under a cab – if I can find one. Wait, what's she doing now?

"Let's go, Booth. I'll drive you home, put you to bed."

"Bed, yeah, that's where I wanna be…are you gonna be there too? 'Cause that would be **so cool**. I've been wantin' to get you there for **forever**. Are you laughing at me? I'll have you know I'm very serious…where's your stupid boyfriend? I was gonna beat him up, but I restrained myself…I think that was very kind of me, don't you?"

"He's not my boyfriend anymore. And Booth? About the bed thing? Hold that thought…"

Whoa...


End file.
